


Something Dirty for Anska

by HUNKxTofu



Series: Ash the Druid [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action, Adventure, Comeplay, Drug Use, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Facials, High Gate Ruins, Kissing, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Sex Positions, Oral Sex, Romance, Rough Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Skooma, Skyrim Kink Meme, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 04:06:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17276768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HUNKxTofu/pseuds/HUNKxTofu
Summary: Anska and the last Dragonborn get it on in ancient Nordic ruins. De-anon written like two years ago for the Elder Scrolls/Skyrim Kink Meme—my first autofill.





	Something Dirty for Anska

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt (which, again, was my own): any!Db/any!obscure!NPC, basically. See from there at https://skyrimkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4670.html?thread=13687870#cmt13687870. I'd gleefully post to the old, dead, locked, frozen original KM, but it's all those things and I can't, hence the new one.
> 
> Cover (by me! [by throwing text on a UESP screengrab]) at https://www.deviantart.com/hunkxtofu/art/Something-Dirty-for-Anska-Rushed-Artwork-779414387. Font notes, because I'm that particular: The main title should be in basically The Elder Scrolls font, which on my computer I have as Cyrodiil; section titles should be in the Skyrim font, Futura Condensed Medium; and I prefer the body text in Garamond for no reason other than aesthetics.

**Something Dirty for Anska**

Evening Star, 4E 201

**I. Kun**

His name was Ash, though in Skyrim he’d taken the moniker Víðarr Sigvaldr Asklund for tax purposes. He and his friend Nya Alfhildr were spending time apart.

Ash entered the ruins of High Gate in the Pale expecting to fight the typical drone-like draugr or perhaps bandits at every turn, but instead—at first—encountered only dead draugr. Or, _slain_ draugr; draugr were already dead. Undead.

As he inspected one of the slain draugr’s corpses, Ash heard a distant voice say loudly, “That’s the last of them!” Whoever said it, they were alive.

At the end of a trail of slain draugr, Ash encountered a tall, beautiful Nord woman wearing hide boots and fur armour with a cleavage window in the front. She wore daggers of iron human and moonstone elven construction on a narrow leather belt cinched around a narrow waist. She was a dirty blonde with long hair, a straight lock of it loose on each side of her aquiline face and the rest braided and twisted and bowed together behind her head. The woman glimmered translucent blue; for an instant Ash thought her a ghost, until she soon proved otherwise: it was a mage armour spell, which diminished a moment later as they spoke. He recognized the spell from how it diminished— _oakflesh_ , maybe _stoneflesh_. In Skyrim, people categorized it as an “alteration” spell. The woman was a wizard, or maybe a sorcerer, and anyway an uncommon sight in a Nordic ruin; Ash hardly encountered anything but draugr in such places. The living Ash encountered in such ruins were most often spiders, skeevers, occasionally people who practiced only necromancy but they only ever wore all-black, or bandits looking for treasure who assumed he therefore must be too and thus would kill over it. Bandits were hard to talk out of violence. Generally, Ash only ventured into ruins to explore them, and/or look for dragon-language word walls to learn new Shouts. He didn’t need more money.

The woman greeted Ash by saying, “ _You_ look strong,” which seemed so very forward he simply ignored it. Her name was Anska. She had a strong Nordic accent, and either wore makeup for dungeon-crawling or had pleasantly red-rimmed eyes and over-blushed cheeks.

For years, Anska told Ash, she’d been looking for a scroll that proved her family’s lineage; according to family legend, their bloodline led back all the way to Ysgramor himself. The scroll meant a lot to her and her family. Anska had tracked it here, somewhere in High Gate’s ruins, where only a catacomb full of draugr kept it from her. No—there was an old dragon priest, too. Mustn’t forget the dragon priest: Vokun. Anska could prevail against draugr, but a dragon priest she wasn’t sure about.

Anska didn’t see how she greeted Ash as at all forward. She believed she needed help to get past Vokun, and had petitioned the Companions of Whiterun, months ago, for as much, so for a while, she had expected one or more of them to show up and escort her on this mission. For what felt like ages, none had come. Anska also expected the Champions—err, Companions—to write her back and say if they wouldn’t help, but she’d neither heard nor read any word from them. It couldn’t take more than a week to walk from Whiterun to her home in Morthal where she’d directed them to meet her, or failing that her family’s farm outside of Solitude. She’d provided both addresses. When she first saw Ash, she thought him a Companion. Of course they’d send a Companion to me _now_ , she’d thought, now that I’m already in here and have slain several restless corpses. It shortly occurred to her that his timing was so amazingly fortuitous he must’ve been not a mere Companion or mortal at all but a gift from the gods, the Nine Divines themselves. Likely Mara or Dibella—he might even have been an avatar of one or both of theirs, judging by how attractive, and cut and ripped with muscle, they’d made him. She later saw him topless and became _certain_ he was a Divine avatar. Surely no one else could be such an exemplar of physical fitness; even if he wasn’t an avatar, it was absurd, and clearly supernatural.

She forgot to ask him if he was Companion or gods-send until the next-to-last time she ever saw him, much later, after all was done and told; he didn’t claim to be either, and explained he was in such good shape because he spent hours, daily, stretching and exercising. Also fine physiques were common in his family. If Anska was a betting woman, which she wasn’t, she still would’ve put money on Ash being a gods-send. He was also tall, inhumanly good-looking and had long copper hair.

Apart from Divine avatar, Anska couldn’t tell if Ash was human, half-human or something else . . . until she saw the long, pointy ears, which at first his hair obscured. She wasn’t sure what kind of elf he was; he didn’t look quite like any she’d ever seen, or heard of. But he was an _elf_ , nonetheless. If the gods had sent her an elf, of all improbable, undesirable things, then she’d lead this unusually attractive, astoundingly fit elf-man to his death—or he’d help her find her family’s scroll, and thus prove himself worthy in a trial by combat. Either way, Anska won. He had weapons all over him, including some sort of recurved longbow and these three curving swords thrust through his belt, two long and one short; he must have known how to fight. He certainly carried himself as such.

After concisely introducing herself, Anska said to Ash, “Are you here to help?”

So began an unexpectedly wonderful night for both of them.

**II. Vukein**

Anska and Ash cleared the ruins of draugr together, alternating between three things:

1\. Combat with draugr. Both Ash and Anska took hits; a draugr knocked her down once. (Ash flipped and tumbled around so much she kept thinking he’d been knocked down, but he never was.)

And 2. Searching the place for a scroll (Anska) or looting the place (Ash).

Finally, 3. Bumping into each other, at first accidentally and innocently, but then progressively less and less so.

Anska never used weapons in combat; only magic, generally throwing either ice spikes or fireballs. As much was uncommon for Nords. Ash noticed himself wanting to get to know Anska better.

For Ash, the night began like almost any dungeon dive: Fight draugr, then loot the place and store that loot in a backpack near the front entrance so carrying it didn’t slow him down. Not so near that it was right by the door, lest someone steal it. Ash might not go into a place to loot it, but once he went in, he’d make it financially beneficial to himself or he’d be damned. Not every dungeon had a word wall, and many of them were samey. Ash would normally use magic to determine whether a dungeon had a word wall in before he bothered walk inside, but this night, he’d felt compelled to wander in without checking first.

Anska learned that Ash carried a small enchanted bag for yet more weapons not already about his person, and a large backpack for loot. He stored the backpack by a slain draugr leaning against a wall in the second room of the ruins, where he’d met her. He kept leading the two of them, moving forward, killing—or was it slaying?—more draugr, looting their corpses, then slowly carrying a load of heavy, ancient weapons in his arms. He couldn’t fight properly like that, so he’d continually backtrack and stow it all, retreading the same steps over and over. Which wore Anska’s patience down after about two rooms. Rooms in Nordic ruins were all so very, improbably vast. Ash soon decided only to take very light or valuable things, like gold Septim coins or magickal potions; he’d leave the ancient draugr weapons, embalming tools, linen grave wrappings and so on for later.

Throughout the farce of Ash’s looting the place, Anska followed him very closely—too closely, he thought. He could only guess at why, and his guesses ran the gamut from thinking she was afraid, which after a few small-scale spats with draugr he learned _very much_ wasn’t so, to thinking it was because he was simply _so_ attractive, which didn’t feel true either; to Ash everyone was attractive, in many different ways, and he believed he didn’t stand out much. Maybe he did in Skyrim, but he hadn’t thought about that lately. His mind had been on other things, like scientific research. Perhaps he’d occasionally stand out because of his fitness or magickal or martial prowess, but in Skyrim, because he was an elf, Nords generally acted uninterested even in the mundane physical aspects.

Still, though, the elf and the Nord kept very close together, in and out of combat. In the fights, Ash quickly found himself protecting Anska, inexplicably. He did it instinctively as well as needlessly; she could take care of herself just fine, but perhaps because she only used magic in combat, and didn’t know how to evade attacks, Ash couldn’t help but instinctively feel she was vulnerable. More vulnerable than him in such tight, enclosed spaces, anyway. He occasionally noticed putting himself between her and various draugr—wights and scourges and death lords—catching blows, or deflecting or parrying or riposting them.

Ash, who was a daedroth with blades, and Anska quickly developed a rapport, and team combat tactics without even speaking of them. Ash would rush forward, using his two beautiful, wicked, _curved_ exotic longswords, and hack draugr to pieces; meanwhile Anska would expend her magicka reserve hurling death at draugr whenever she had a clear shot. Well, that wasn’t entirely true; in the first fight or three, before Anska grew accustomed to Ash’s strange, unpredictable, aggressive behavior in combat, his movement got him magickally impaled or burned more than a few times. At which time he’d pull the ice spike out of himself, or somehow land on his feet—despite being hurled by the magical explosion’s concussion—and put out the new fire or fires about his person with water he conjured out of nowhere, and magickally heal himself before she had a chance to remedy her friendly fire. He usually waited until the nearby draugr were all done to maintain himself.

Anska had to wonder: So he was good with magick too? How could that be? Why? She didn’t understand how elves could do that; maybe they simply had the time to master more than one thing because they could live for ages. Ash looked quite young, though.

Ash was fearless, or appeared to be, and incredibly fast in a fight. He moved faster than Anska thought possible, swinging his swords or running or whatever else he did. Several times, while he was evading a cut or an arrow, Anska saw him somersault, or do a flip while airborne to dodge a draugr’s swing, or run up a wall and jump off it when cornered, or somesuch thing—and he did all these things so quickly Anska was never certain what she’d seen; it was incredible; maybe the running-up-a-wall had simply been a draugr’s corpse flipping in the air, from the force of one of her fireballs or one of Ash’s apparently quite strong sword-swings. Once she saw him strike a draugr and it went flying; parallel to the floor, not up into the air, but it still flew. Ash was very strong, though he looked deceptively lean and whippy. More than once Anska saw him cut a draugr to pieces, straight down the front from head to groin, or laterally in half at the middle. Or he’d lop off a head. She’d seen bulkier, more muscly-looking Nords fight draugr, but never dismember them. As Ash got into mêlée with draugr, Anska often saw pieces of them fly off of them. Once or twice dismembered pieces of draugr, such as arms, flew past her at some speed. Every mêlée seemed easy for him.

Then the fight would end and Ash would put out fires Anska had started about his person, or remove an ice spike, then pick through each fallen draugr’s body, sometimes finding Septims and sometimes taking a few samples of their bonemeal, presumably for alchemy—which he presumably also practiced, in addition to fitness and fighting and long blades and the arcane arts; Anska had to assume he was mediocre at alchemy for his hyper-competence in combat. Fortunately, by then he’d stopped taking every draugr’s weapons, be it ancient, notched longsword or axe or shortbow or decrepit, dull arrowheads—she’d seen to it.

Once, Anska finished off the last draugr of a skirmish with a fireball, which slew the draugr and set its corpse on fire. There were several other slain draugr nearby; they caught fire as well. The Nord said, “Sometimes I just like to watch them burn.” It was then that the elf thought, _By all the gods, I want to_ live _with this woman._ He wondered what normal occupation she had—mage for hire? Sellspell? Some jarl’s court wizard? If so he should’ve heard of her, he was the jarl of Falkreath Hold—and what the dynamics might be like, living with her in his favorite house in Skyrim, one he’d bought in Markarth in the Reach, inherited name: Vlindrel Hall. Ash believed Anska wouldn’t take his mead and wine without asking, _Argis the Bulwark_ , he thought in silent rebuke. Well, assuming she’d even want to move into a place he owned. Maybe she was very wealthy, as Skyrimmers went. Maybe she had a home much nicer or fancier than Vlindrel Hall, such as Proudspire Manor in Solitude, another of his properties.

Oftentimes while Anska and Ash fought groups of draugr, one of the draugr would run away, for no clear reason; Ash was left to think that those draugr had simply broken rank in fear, upon seeing the pairing of himself and Anska.

Throughout, frequently, Anska and Ash would bump into each other. Ash was surprised the first time but loved every instance of it, including that one. It hadn’t been long since he’d made love to someone; he simply always enjoyed, and always desired, physical contact with others. Something seemed special about this contact with her, even without knowing her. It was clearly deliberate; Anska’s balance wasn’t poor, and she seemed to like the repeated touching as well as he did. Whenever Ash looked at Anska after a bump, she’d smile at him knowingly. They never spoke of it, even after it came to fruition. Ash couldn’t tell if it was real flirtation, a game he was supposed to participate in, somehow, or . . . something else.

Anska knew Ash always felt it when the two of them bumped because, uncommonly for a sword-warrior in Skyrim, he eschewed armour and wore only clothing. Anska always felt it because her “armour” was fur. She’d bumped into Ash accidentally once or twice; she liked to follow him closely. Mayhap because she was so attracted to him. And it was innocent at first, even as she kept doing it. Then it got less and less innocent, until, eventually, it was no longer innocent at all. She enjoyed it, though, both of their parts in the playful ruse, and she didn’t want it to stop. At a point she didn’t quite remember, he used that small and clearly enchanted bag of his to put some of his extra weapons away—ones he wasn’t using—so that, Anska was fairly sure, when she bumped into him he would feel her better, her skin and bare arms and warmth, and because her fur armour covered very little of her skin she’d feel nearly all that of him, too, rather than something cold and dead: the leather of a bullwhip, the wood scabbard of one of his swords, or the steel of one of the small axes he insisted were “tomahawks.” Whatever that meant.

Eventually Anska and Ash started touching each other, rather than merely colliding. She touched him first, then he touched her, then they kept doing it back and forth. On the arm, or the back or the waist. Once he touched her hip and she nearly moaned. Once he seemed to be reaching for her shoulder, but she moved, he went with it and his hand landed on her neck, and she felt this frisson of excitement. He didn’t shy away from anything. She liked that. They touched each other in combat, too—maybe that was how it started, though in combat with no time to talk it was utilitarian and practical rather than intimate and erotic. Perhaps it was only after the physical contact in combat that they touched each other outside of it—past some immaterial threshold—such as early on while Ash scoured a room for loot and turned abruptly and Anska didn’t stop quick enough, or later when they lined up by one of the ruins’ few doors and made sure they were both ready before they headed in.

Occasionally, as when one of Ash’s sudden turnarounds surprised Anska, she wondered if his abruptness, in such moments, wasn’t an accident. Once he turned, not so forcefully as normal, and she wasn’t ready for it and one of her breasts smashed against one of his arms. His arms were clothed, but he felt it. She certainly did. His arm felt like iron. She loved it. She imagined things they’d do together later and relished it all, fantasized about feeling restrained, by his iron arms, and fucked hard. She felt heat rush to her face, and her belly and between her legs. Almost all of her weight went into him, and his body and balance didn’t yield. Not even slightly. He was coordinated, agile as well as strong, even outside of a fight. A few seconds after that occurrence, when she next deliberately bumped her chest into him, her tits smashed against his back—something about that moment’s contact seemed distinctly sexual and, during sex, she preferred the naughtier-sounding “tits” to “breasts.” More exciting. She was tingling all over from the accidental contact before—it felt like they’d only just touched for the first time but had been speaking about it for hours. Though they hadn’t been. This was progressing very quickly. She liked that. That made it even more exciting; safe—he meant her no harm, and she was pretty sure he’d stop if she simply said “No”—yet dangerous. She hoped he could feel how erect her nipples were as she did that—she’d been thinking about doing it for some time. Long enough to plan it. Though even with the planning it didn’t go perfectly when she really did it. She still felt it—felt one nipple push into itself and the other divert, pushed aside by the hard bone of one of Ash’s shoulder blades. She was confident he felt it too. So, purpose fulfilled. She nearly moaned; and while she wasn’t sure what it sounded like to Ash, a sound came out of her, from somewhere deep in her chest. It sounded incredibly sexy in her mind. About two years ago she’d gotten both her nipples pierced, and wore a steel barbell through each of them; the process had been very painful, but her nipples were now much more sensitive, and having them touched during sex had gone from very good to incredible, almost beyond description.

They didn’t consummate right then, though they both later recognized that they wanted to, and for an instant nearly did . . . but if they’d started, they wouldn’t have been able to stop, and their mission wasn’t done. If they made a lot of noise, they might draw unwelcome attention. Ash felt it would’ve been ungentlemanly of him, like he would be taking advantage of a fleeting impulse, though he knew she was at least as interested in acting on all the flirtation and touching as he was. Anska didn’t have her scroll yet, though, and like Ash she thought it too sudden, too impulsive, too spur-of-the-moment. She feared he wouldn’t respect her, during or after; that he’d think her easy, a nonsensical nonexistent idea she’d nonetheless been brought up to look down upon. It was one thing for their mortal-plane bodies to collide by accident, and quite another for their two bodies to become one, and _collide_ deliberately. Ash also seemed highly virile; what if she became with-child?

After that moment of near-consummation, the innocent bumps and touches were no longer innocent. They’d crashed through another indefinite threshold together, and they enjoyed being past it. The touches and bumps were all loaded with something, now, and became lingering, more indulgent; more involved, more lusty.

**III. Vo**

When Anska and Ash reached Vokun’s sarcophagus it popped open, but Ash didn’t wait for the dragon priest to rise.

Vokun died and became a fine powder with nary a fight.

Anska and Ash didn’t let their touching culminate until after.

“Good riddance,” Anska said. “Come. Let’s move on, the scroll must be in the next room.” She had to concentrate not to accidentally say “cock,” something she was fervently thinking about, instead of “scroll,” though her objective here was truly her family’s scroll, not cock. Other things of anatomy and fluids and interconnected two-person body positions would come later.

Anska and Ash climbed stairs into the next room, the treasure room, which focused around a strange, worshipful half-circle of wall, with long claw-mark etchings all across the lower half, all of which Anska quickly disregarded. She exclaimed, “There it is! On the table!” There was a table on the floor, almost in the middle of the room; on that table, as if it were nothing of special significance, was a sealed scroll. She headed toward it.

“Tarry! I must absorb this lest it play foul with my vision!” Ash said, running at the huge, strange, claw mark-befouled, eerily beautiful wall structure. He got close to it, then slowed and got closer, then stood staring into it for a few seconds.

Wondering why he was doing that, Anska stood still watching him, and waited until Ash was done doing . . . whatever he was doing.

Ash broke out of the spell suddenly, whirled around, saw Anska looking at the ancient Nordic-and-dragon-architecture-style table—the only table in the room—and looked to the table himself, then without hesitation dropped his second and apparently extraneous curving longsword—it clanged on the stone floor—and used that now-free hand to silently cast _telekinesis_. As he did, he said “ _I_ got it!” loudly. He was heading toward her, so she assumed he was upping the ante of their touching game and was going to elaborately bring her the scroll in some grand fashion. Which he did. Ash’s strong, mellifluous voice echoed around the room. He ran at the table but his footsteps were oddly quiet; Anska assumed that was magickal, in keeping with much of what he did, but if it was magickal she didn’t know what spell it was. Maybe _muffle_ ; but _muffle_ made these blue clouds around what you cast it on. No such apparent magickal clouds surrounded Ash’s feet.

“I could get it!” Anska said.

“I know!” Ash said. The scroll of yellowed, aged parchment jumped into open air from the table and shot into Ash’s open hand with a whoosh. “Let me present it to you! Pretend I’m a knight in your service.”

Anska laughed. She said, “You didn’t tell me you were funny.”

Ash shrugged, holding the scroll in both hands, smiling and walking toward her. She got goosebumps all over, seeing that, anticipating. Not only that but it was The Scroll, _her scroll,_ and she was about to have it, and maybe him too.

“We call them húskarls here, but . . . ” Anska said. “You keep doing what you’re doing, Ash.”

He smiled at that.

She was at the top of a long, twisting wood stairwell, with him at the bottom.

He paused. “May I?” he said.

Anska went along with him, loving it. She smiled and moved and behaved like royalty, holding her head high and back straight and her hands together in front of her. They both laughed. “You may,” Anska said. She pretended like her eyes couldn’t look downward—only straight forward or above.

He knelt, smiling, and watched her stride down toward him. They laughed more.

She noticed him looking over her body; she heartily enjoyed that, and the hunger and desire in his eyes. She didn’t mind being watched, everyone watched other people, but she couldn’t recall ever having _liked_ being looked at this way. Well, there was that one time with her husband. No, several times, with boys, then separately with her husband before he joined the Stormcloaks. Before he got killed, and left her alone with her family. Wherever this thing with Ash was going, she liked it, and she wanted more. Much more. She looked over his body, too.

“My lady,” Ash said, as she descended the stairwell with fake haughtiness and a grace she didn’t know she had. Upon hearing “my lady” she tingled all over, again. Ash lowered his eyes, though she would’ve preferred him to not. When he looked back up and there was something new and more in his eyes. Suddenly, everything either of them did seemed thoroughly sexual. _Yes! This is truly happening,_ she thought. She felt herself getting wet, already. Her knees warned her that they may wobble soon. She worried about her knees failing her on the stairs.

Anska got to the bottom of the stairs, without falling, and wanted to tell him to take her and ravish her any way he wanted, but first she reached for the scroll in Ash’s hands. He pulled it away, just a little. She made a wordless noise of appeal. Looking into her eyes boldly he whispered, “I must kiss your hand first.”

She was astonished at that, surprised in the best way possible; _It’s like . . . foreplay before foreplay,_ she thought, loving this role-playing he was doing, having fun with it—not just sticking his cock in her and giving her a rutting—and that he was content not to penetrate her straight away.

She extended a hand toward his face; he kept the scroll in one of his hands, and used the other to gently but firmly take her hand and lead it to his lips.

He looked away from her eyes—and she felt the intense heat of his gaze ebb away—then kissed her hand, not at all chastely. He was a good kisser. Coordinated, deliberate, practiced. And he was doing it for her, not himself. Unusual, but welcome. In anticipation, picturing his head between her legs, Anska felt several parts of herself do flips inside, and her pussy get wetter. She felt a drop of her liquids escape her loincloth and run down the inside of her thigh. She hadn’t had anyone in a long time; she hadn’t had a good kisser in a longer time, and kissing was very important to her, usually more important than sex itself.

Ash went to let Anska’s hand go and started raising the scroll to give it to her—but she stopped him. Anska clamped her hand down on his with her thumb before he could release her hand, then pushed her hand back to his face. She twisted her hand out of his and touched and held his face, and caressed it, and softly ran her fingers along his lips. He let her. She liked that. He had these wonderfully full, soft lips. She wished her own lips looked so kissable. _I’ll make those lips mine,_ she thought. She wanted to feel them all over her. She felt his breathing quicken as she caressed his lips.

That neither of them said anything nearly drove her wild. She nearly tackled him and ground against him, even with all their clothes on.

Anska was really getting into this play of him submitting his will to hers, kneeling prostate—no, prostrate—no, that wasn’t the word either—before her. She was becoming surprisingly turned-on. Her skin was much more sensitive than normal; she felt even the slightest shifts in the air.

She felt his breath against her hand, hot. He looked up at her. She swooned at the sight of his eyes. She felt a great heat return to her, growing and twisting and roiling low in her belly.

“I cannot thank you enough for your help,” Anska said, trying to sound lascivious yet also royal, aristocratic—like a proper queen or lady to a valiant and adoring subject . . . whom she was about to fuck. Yes, _subject_. She liked that. She smiled; it was a big, true smile. The room’s ambient noise seemed loud in her ears. “My knight,” she added. Somehow this play with him, using the Cyrodiilic styles of knight and lady, made everything more fun, more exciting.

She considered telling him to take her boots off slowly, one by one, and to suck each of her toes, but maybe that would be too much for him, too fast. She settled for her finger. She’d test him.

“You are most welcome, my lady,” Ash said. He didn’t mean for it to, yet somehow it sounded prurient. Its accidental sexuality, and the look of hunger and promise of selfless pleasure in his eyes, made it just about the dirtiest thing she’d ever heard.

Anska pushed her finger past Ash’s lips into his mouth. He didn’t pull away, resist, or hesitate. He let her break his moist lips’ seal and go as much further as she pleased into his mouth’s hot wetness. She could only imagine that having a cock and feeling it get sucked felt so good.

Ash’s tongue dragged over and around her finger with skill and a surprising firm insistence, while also still being gentle, as when he’d taken her hand. It was an intensely lovely feeling. And this touching only her finger. He sucked it at several different variations of light, with no shame; he looked into her eyes the whole time, wanton. It was like Ash had to get this done exceedingly well, like this might be all the contact he, a lowly knight, would ever get with his lady, so he’d better please her well. She liked that he kept up their private game. She hoped Ash knew he’d already done so well he’d be getting a lot more than this. But there was no need to rush, and that he thought this would be all, or was merely pretending so, was endearing as well as arousing to her. He’d put a lot of effort and consideration and will into proving himself worthy to, and of, her. He’d easily put as much into pleasing and satisfying her. And by the way he did it all so naturally, she was pretty sure he’d try anything she wanted to.

“Suck,” Anska said gently. “Harder.”

Ash sucked. Sometimes he sucked hard like she’d said, then more lightly, then she’d pretend she was upset at his teasing and she’d begin to withdraw her finger, so he’d move forward to reclaim it and redouble his efforts and suck like he knew she wanted him to. He twisted and rolled his head and sucked, and stroked her finger with his tongue, and fellated her finger like a professional. _Funny,_ she thought. She took him for a man’s man, not a _man’s_ man. No matter, either way. They were together now. They had tonight. That was all that mattered.

She wondered who Ash was, really, and if he’d tell her. Was this a dream? Was it real? It felt _un_ real.

She’d never had a man do something like this to her. She’d fantasized as much a few times, but never asked someone to try or followed through with it. Now that she acted on it, it was much better than she’d imagined. Ash would behave submissively simply to please her. All the men she’d been with would’ve been done talking by now, and would’ve been impatiently shoving their cocks into her dry, or surely much less wet, pussy, or trying to, or so drunk they couldn’t even get hard. She just hoped Ash was interested in women. There were many more things she had in mind to do, before she’d be done with him. What if he wasn’t? What if he was simply well-mannered? She wanted him to truly want to be with her, do things with her. She also expected him to be good at it.

Everything that happened after then came sudden and very fast. It took what felt like hours, though also went by so quickly, so well, it seemed terribly ephemeral.—Why couldn’t it _keep_ happening, every day? Or at least every few days?—Much later, not wanting to, but physically exhausted and surpassingly satiated, Anska eventually had to resign and stop.

**IV. Frul**

Anska and Ash hurriedly stripped each other’s weapons and equipment and clothing off, kissing and touching each other more and more by the instant, standing tight against one another, their skin and limbs contacting seemingly everywhere. During a kiss, Ash caressed one of her breasts and she moaned. Her tits were two of her weak spots, especially the nipples. He seemed to like her piercings. Even if she didn’t have the barbells in, she absolutely loved her tits and nipples to be touched and stroked and rolled and pinched and squeezed during sex. And before, and after. Ash played with her piercings lightly, too. He did everything she hoped he would without her even asking for it. It was wonderful.

They seemed to touch constantly, and kiss each other hundreds of times. The best thing about it, apart from his skill and that he seemed genuinely interested in her, was that unlike most men Ash didn’t feel like, in kissing her, all he was trying to do was get to more, get to fucking, get inside of her. It seemed like if all she wanted to do, all night, was kiss and engage in light petting, he wouldn’t mind. There was no pressure to go further. Though they both clearly wanted to.

Anska broke another kiss to say, “I want you.”

“I want you too,” Ash said, undoing belts and tugging her fur leggings off. She felt cold floor; She didn’t remember taking her boots off, but looked down and saw her feet bare, as well as the crotch of Ash’s pants rendered into a tent from the thrust of his cock. She grabbed at him and felt a cock hardening—not yet all the way stiff or rigid. He was, perhaps, more than she was used to.

“Let me slow down,” Ash said, peeling himself off her somewhat. She felt cold at once.

He saw her nipples standing out—her top was discarded, and she wore no dressing over her tits, which was uncommon. “We forgot about your scroll,” Ash said, trying not to stare so much. Her tits were perfect. And the piercings were particularly exciting, as well as uncommon in Skyrim.

“Later!” she said, desperate. She felt outside of herself in that moment. The ecstatic, distressed sound of her own voice turned her on even more.

“Where’d I put it?” Ash said.

“Put what?!” Anska said.

“The scroll!” Ash said.

Neither of them knew, or could find it immediately.

“Oh no!” Anska said, feeling like it was lost.

She was completely unaware, somehow, that her fur armour’s mantle and sleeveless blouse were off, her torso naked and breasts exposed and shifting and jerking about as she whirled and turned, looking for the scroll. One of her breasts bounced, and light glinted off the barbell in its nipple, and Ash couldn’t help staring. She didn’t seem to notice, but he was sure she did. He loved breasts, especially ones in motion as Anska’s were, and he had a particular weakness for them once they reached a certain size. It didn’t seem right to him to single out breasts, away from the rest of a woman’s body or person, but there it was; he loved breasts, and he oft couldn’t help it. Now was one of those times. He felt his cock throb and strain at his pants, which stretched but would not yield. It was growing painful, he noticed, and he had these urges. He noticed one of his hands rubbing at his cock through his pants and stopped himself.

“By the weapons!” he blurted out before thinking.

Luckily he didn’t merely shout what he was thinking: “Breasts!” or “Tits!” or “Tittyballs!” He seemed to recall twisting one of Anska’s nipples gently—preliminarily—by the barbell in it with one hand as his arm smashed against her other breast, and her moaning throatily, as his other hand simultaneously set down one of his swords and the scroll.

Both Anska and Ash had been doing a lot at once.

Anska whirled, and her tits whirled independently, and her slim belly expanded with a deep breath and she made a loud noise of relief—she’d spotted the scroll. “There it is!” she said for good measure. Ash heard her voice echo throughout the room. “Let me look!” she said, as if he wouldn’t—which, to be fair, he had been rather set on not letting her do, if only at that moment.

Anska ran for the scroll—her tits bouncing energetically just following her footfalls, Ash couldn’t help noticing, and watching—and took the scroll and broke the seal and read it.

“Hmm,” Anska said, “It’s encrypted. It’ll take a while to figure this out.”

“Precisely how long a while?” Ash said. “We tarry.”

Anska looked up at Ash and became aware of his torso being just as naked as hers. She saw Ash’s chest bare, and gasped. She became certain that he was one of the Nine Divines’ avatars. Probably Dibella’s. “ _Gods,_ your abs,” she breathed.

“I cannot wait,” Ash said.

“Nor can I,” Anska said, setting the scroll down.

They ran into each other’s arms.

They kissed frantically, barely willing to stop to breathe, but finished stripping each other slowly and deliberately, one article of clothing at a time for each of them.

“Are you as turned on as I am?” Anska said. “Let me look.”

Ash paused so she could see the spectre of his erection, now an even larger lateral tent at his pants’ crotch.

“Oh my,” Anska said. They resumed stripping one another. Anska watched as Ash peeled her leggings off. She said, “This is a very exciting moment for me,” also trusting him not to knock her over, trusting him with her balance.

“Me as well,” Ash said. They both smiled.

They kept touching each other throughout, whether by holding hands or helping each other balance or kissing or teasing, playful and enjoying it the entire time. Without consciously thinking it, they worked hard never to cease contact with one another.

Ash undid the knot of braids at the back of Anska’s head. She let him. He considered unbraiding her hair, slowly and methodically, while kissing her and exploring the rest of her body with his hands, but before he could decide she said, “Don’t start unbraiding it.”

Ash let go of her hair, which was looser but still braided. “I could re-braid it for you later,” he said, kissing her neck.

Anska could not contain several moans. She felt arousal surge through her body, now awake all over. She didn’t forget about her hair; “Maybe, but I don’t know that,” she said, teasing now, between low, soft moans, very deep breaths and the beginning of panting. She was really getting into it. So was he.

“Very well,” Ash said, and largely forgot about her hair, except to note to definitely pull it later—somehow he just knew she’d love it. He kept kissing and licking and sucking and nibbling around her neck, and touching her nipples, rubbing and stroking and pinching them and independently tugging on her nipples’ barbells and flicking them and pushing them around. She loved all of it. She loved even more that as he experimented with various rhythms and methods and intensities he kept getting better at stimulating her.

Before Anska could start to take Ash’s pants off, he moved away from her and cleared the entirety of the huge table in the middle of the room in one push, and had Anska lie on her back on it and he went down on her.

He kissed his way down her chest, until she got the fingers of both her hands in his hair and shoved his head hastily further down, between her thighs. He didn’t resist. Then he kissed all around her pussy, then spread her vulva open with a few of his fingers and kissed and licked and sucked all over her pussy lips, before his tongue ever went inside her, before he touched her clitoris. He kept that up for a long time that went by very quickly, much like the rest of the night. He wasn’t shy or hesitant to involve her clitoris. He touched it first with his lips. Minutes went by which, to both of them, felt like fast seconds. He figured out what she liked and played and teased, but when it came down to it and she wanted him to keep doing the same thing, and told him so, he diligently did as instructed. He didn’t stop until she came, which happened quickly. He just then noticed that he’d let this become a habit. He kept going after her orgasm, too, while she cooled down. She came quickly from that and the excitement of it and his skill, responsiveness, and attentiveness. Her first orgasm that night was explosive; hard and wonderful, but short. Entirely too short. She couldn’t imagine why. Maybe she should’ve tried to hold out.

Ash wanted to coax several more, better orgasms out of her in the same position, but she wouldn’t let him. She bade him stop and stand.

He did as told and noticed he still had his pants on, which mostly explained the incredible tension he felt in his cock and balls. He’d thought he was already naked.

Anska took Ash’s pants off. She was surprised at how much she liked his cock already, barely having touched it.

She was also surprised at his lack of smallclothes: “Wow,” she said. “No undergarment.”

“You weren’t wearing any either,” he said.

“It’s unusual in a man,” she said.

“It’s unusual in a woman,” he said.

“We’re both unusual,” she said.

“I’d like to be unusual _in_ you,” he said.

It was so contrived, but the way he clearly was going to follow deeply through with it made her moan, somehow, and she leaned into him, unable to resist touching herself for any longer. But she retained enough control of herself to touch Ash, too, primarily his cock, which was thick and yielded wonderfully to the squeeze of her hand. He moaned too, low and wild and raw. She rubbed herself rapidly. All she could do to his cock was hold it. He loved the attention nonetheless. He’d eaten her pussy a long time, with neither of them touching his throbbingly hard cock.

Then Ash reached down too, and touched her clitoris and his cock at the same time with either hand. He wasn’t sure what was a better sight: Anska naked and turned on and hot and _ready_ , her pussy sopping wet; or her tits out, for him to see, shifting with her movement; or her touching him and herself at the same time; or the glowing ecstatic look on her face, her mouth agape and her breathing getting hard. “ _Ash,_ ” she moaned. Never mind, he decided: Her face and her eyes were the best sight of it all, by far.

“Do you want this, Anska?” he said, holding her, lining up their hips, both of them stroking his cock to full hardness and her pussy to further wetness.

Turned on even more by his asking, which she adored, Anska said, “ _Yes_. Yes, Ash. A hundred times yes. Stop asking, I want your cock in me.” She looked down to watch.

“Okay,” Ash said. “Tell me if ever you change your mind.”

“Gods I’m gonna love this,” she added, watching, completely un-self-conscious. He found that invigorating. She’d clearly been talking to herself—not performing, not trying to turn him on.

He went to push into her—

She stopped him with a hand at his pelvis, saying, “Wait! This was supposed to be your turn, for my mouth on you.”

“It’s nobody’s turn,” Ash said.

“Be silent,” Anska said—very much hoping he wouldn’t be once she started on him—crushing a finger into his lips. “Stand up, just like that. And don’t move.”

She knelt and kissed his cock on the tip of the head and, smiling, said, “And here’s a little something for helping me out.”

She sucked his cock. She did it well; it was sloppy, wet, hasty, wonderful. Though she didn’t or maybe couldn’t take all of his cock down her throat, which arbitrarily Ash almost always expected people to be able to do, which seemed wrong . . .   _Wait, what was I thinking about?_ Ash asked himself. He knew he’d been thinking about deep-throating, but then his surface thoughts no longer coalesced into language. He moaned, from a particularly strong stab of pleasure. He looked down at her.

She involved her whole body in the blowjob, not just her mouth, not just a hand. As he looked, she had one whole hand around his cock—it stroked him briskly, along the length she hadn’t taken down her throat—moving in time with her head, which at that instant was bobbing back and forth, impaling itself on his cock. Her other arm steadied herself, on his thigh. Even that felt good, and it was only for balance. Her body went with her as she moved—she used her entire body to suck his cock. Even the way she knelt, her positioning, turned him on somehow, seeing the naked curves of her skinny Nord body, her back and her ass sticking out, and her shoulders and creamy thighs, and how she focused on him.

Ash was vocal as he got his cock sucked—wonderfully vocal. Anska couldn’t remember ever really enjoying sucking a man’s cock. But she enjoyed it now, and she was enjoying it immensely. Actually, she hadn’t known she could get this excited in general. She rarely truly enjoyed sex. But this, whatever this was with Ash, she didn’t want to stop. She drew from him these beautiful noises, rumbling up from someplace deep in his chest, not a lot of articulate words apart from things like, “That’s _so_ good,” and, “That’s wonderful,” or simply, “ _Anska . . ._ ” that came out hushed from time to time as her performance merited particular comments—but he made these incredibly erotic noises; in Anska’s opinion something like moans, but vastly superior and much more rewarding. She wasn’t used to such a vocal partner. She loved it. She was trying to please him, but she derived pleasure from making him feel good, and he clearly and openly enjoyed what she was doing to him so much that she managed to please herself, somewhat, at the same time.

Ash enjoyed every second of it, and wanted it to continue forever, but only let her suck on him briefly—a few minutes, or maybe less. After the time had gone by, it only felt like seconds. Ash stopped Anska with a word. He was nowhere near coming; It had simply been too long since she got any direct attention from him. His hands wanted for something to do, to touch her. And he couldn’t tell how much she was enjoying what she’d been doing. Also, he’d kissed and sucked and licked _around_ her pussy, but he’d never put his tongue inside it; he wanted to taste her. Somehow he hadn’t thought to before.

Anska noisily slipped his cock out of her mouth. A few strings of spit ran over her lips. The sloppiness turned Ash on further. Not the spit in itself, but the eagerness. When her mouth was free she said, “Going to come?” with this big, excited smile, and then hurriedly adjusted her knelt body and leaned back and pushed her tits together, with her elbows, like she wanted him to come _on_ them.

He moaned at that, loving it, and by giving his cock a very firm squeeze—then a few pumps—suppressed a very strong urge to throw her down and fuck her ragged right then, without saying a thing, for however long it took to make her come at least a few more times, and keep fucking her until he couldn’t hold out for an instant longer, then pull his cock out of her pussy, kneel over her and shoot hot cum all over her tits. Anska saw his hand moving over his cock, looked down at the motion, and moaned, him squeeze himself watching him touch himself with excitement and anticipation for her.

“No, but I want to with you like that,” Ash said, then knelt because he _needed_ to touch and squeeze and love and play with her tits at that instant. He didn’t expect her to remember what he said.

He grabbed her tits, one per hand, and worked on them, trying new things to see if she liked them and old things he already knew she did.

At the same time his hands took hold of her tits, he used his mouth to passionately kiss Anska. He felt her arms come around his back, pulling him into her. They met each other with equal energy, mouths open before their lips met, tongues probing and swirling around each other, lips smacking, breaking off for an instant then coming back to kiss more. A few minutes went by with them making out and Ash stimulating her tits. He wanted to move his mouth down to her tits, but kept waiting until it seemed like the right time.

Eventually he kissed around her face, places other than her lips, and soon found himself on her neck, kissing and nibbling and sometimes even licking, exploring what Anska liked. Her neck appeared to be a soft spot. There had already been a proper orgasm between them, but they were so new to one another that when he moved lower on her body, away from her neck, he felt a pang of excitement, and she seemed to at the same time, taking this sharp intake of breath. He kissed his way down until he was between her tits, then kissed all over and licked and sucked her tits and her nipples, one of which she pushed into him, twisting her shoulder, and he gleefully indulged her, and he jammed her tits together and played them off each other and stroked and rubbed her nipples, lathering attention on both tits, using his hands on one while his mouth was busy on the other. She moaned breathlessly, openly and wantonly, the whole time, loving the attention, and even more his skill and experience and deftness, which further aroused him as well—the instant feedback he was getting, her responsiveness. They were both very present, already somewhat in tune with one another but eager to become even more so. He was starting to lose control of himself, in the best way. She also kept his cock in one of her hands, for what seemed like the whole time—he was mostly able to ignore her ministrations, but occasionally she stole a moan from him, even though he meant only for her to be stimulated. He tried to tease her by bringing intense attention to her clit occasionally, then moving all his attention above her waist. At most times like those, her hand went from his cock back to her clit. She made these lovely frustrated noises whenever he did that. It was serious at first, but after he did it a few times it became a joke. She called him a tease and they laughed together. One time, a hand of hers went from her pussy to his cock, wet with her juices. She used it as a lubricant to stroke his cock, but she kept her hand at the bell end; her hand covered most of his cock’s head and just barely moved down off it as she stroked. That stole the strongest moan from him.

He jammed her tits together again and put his head between them and hummed, rolling his face all over them. It was absurd, to both of them, but sort of wonderfully familiar and fun too.

Somehow Ash’s ability to speak came back to him and he said, “Sorry, I was trying to say something,” coming up only to breathe, then remembering: “I meant to say before: No, I’m not gonna cum,” he said. “It seemed selfish,” he went on, licking one of her nipples, then blowing on it. She mewled. He kept speaking, “—letting you do all that to me, and my not touching you myself.” He closed his lips tightly around one of her areolae and tongued and sucked on her nipple. He pulled off with a pop and said, “I suppose I could put my hands on your head,” then did the same to her other nipple. She moaned throughout. He almost added, _and fuck your face and grab your tits and shoot my cum down your throat._ He wondered if she’d like that. He hoped she would, because he wanted to do it.

Between increasingly breathy moans Anska said, “Don’t do that—” but cut herself off and gave herself over, for a moment, to a long groan. Then she shook her head slightly and finished the thought: “Don’t put your hands on my head.”

 _So no, she would not like that,_ Ash thought.

They smiled, trusting each other.

“I won’t,” he said, feeling like a right rude bastard, learning from it, a sort of dominating impulse.

He meant what he said. He’d never grabbed her head or her hair, never tried to control or force her. He let her do whatever she wanted, except for stopping her. He’d kept his hands at his sides the whole time she sucked his cock, like a good knight would; he’d been very good about it, too, not even rocking his hips to try to shove all of his cock down her throat, to force into her more cock than she wanted to take, like so many lesser men did. He didn’t even reflexively buck or thrust forward more than a few times, though he obviously wanted to, deeply and often. _Don’t ruin it now,_ she thought—but she knew he wasn’t going to. She was very pleased about that. That was something beyond pure physical skill. He really learned, and paid attention, and honored her the way she wanted him to. She stood, and gave his cock one last loose pump with her hand before wrapping her arms around him.

“Besides, I was really . . . _enjoying_ doing that,” Anska said. They pressed up each against each other just to kiss, for a moment. As they closed the gap between them Ash’s cock got in the way, and stabbed into her belly. Ash reacted the quicker and pushed it aside. Then they ignored it. Mostly; Anska stole glances at and touches of it a few times. Which was unusual for her. Normally, even during sex, she wasn’t very interested in men’s members. Yet somehow now, with Ash, she couldn’t get enough of his. After an initial long kiss they stuck with quicker ones, kissing either on various parts of each other’s bodies or at the lips, meeting each other evenly despite a disparity in height. It seemed like a lot of time went by in that moment but it was probably less than five seconds.

“I could tell,” Ash said.

“So why not?” Anska said.

Ash looked squarely into her eyes and said, “I want to fuck you.”

Anska trembled and moaned at the thought of it, with anticipation. She looked delighted. He had to hold her up to keep her from falling. Ash moaned too, at her and how exciting she was, and how well they matched, and how connected he felt with her, and how attracted to her body he was. He needed to moan and breathe just to get tension out.

He kissed her. They held it and each other, kissing deeply and feeling and stimulating each other using only their hands and arms and legs against each other and grinding hedonistically, for minutes that again felt like seconds, until it became uncomfortable.

They both badly needed more.

They stood fully, away from the table, to kiss each other, both shallowly and deeply, and touch each other more. They did a lot of both things.

Ash didn’t only touch Anska, he put a finger inside of her pussy. Then two fingers. Ash re-confirmed how wet she was when he first reached between her legs exploring—even though he’d long been sliding one of his legs against her pussy and had her wetness all over him—that she was wet enough for him to penetrate her with two fingers even before he put the first in.

She stroked his cock as they kissed and as he fingered her, but he seemed to be making more headway to a second orgasm from her than she was to a first from him.

He preferred it that way, in case he had a strong recoil, which happened sometimes.

Anska supposed that was how men’s bodies worked. After one orgasm most of them were simply _done_ , spent. Women could keep going and going, and it just got better and easier after the first. When she came once, like she recently had, it became easier to come again. Ash wasn’t human, though; maybe elves were different. She’d rather not risk it; wanted, for neither of them, to invite any disappointment or ending to this night or their dalliance.

Before long, Anska was again close to climax. Ash could tell, but it became different for both of them when she said, “Ash, I wanna come again!”

He seized the opportunity, and her waist with his other hand—the one not fingering her—and started lining up their hips together. They were facing one another; they could still kiss as they fucked. Lovely.

“Oh gods! By the gods!” Anska said quickly—not orgasming, though she was nearly there—in excitement. He kept going as she spoke. “Aye! Do it! Put it inside me!” she said.

He did, very slowly sheathing himself in her. They moaned together. She would’ve had him stop with just the tip in to enjoy it before proceeding, but he didn’t stop pushing in, she noticed gleefully and loudly; he kept pushing in, still very slowly, further and further until his entire length was inside of her. Which somehow was perfect, and exactly what she needed; though if he’d asked first what she wanted, she would’ve told him to shove all of it in at once, hard and fast, to sheathe himself in her pussy quickly. She wanted it now, not ten seconds from now. But his slower method was much better, at the moment.

Ash fucked her firmly with both of them standing up. He did it with a lot of force to his movements, but slowly. It was agonizingly, maddeningly wonderful. He hunched to hold her and fuck her. He’d ram in, moving upward, then move back down, pulling almost his entire cock out of her. She cooed and moaned at the frequent gain and loss. Once she looked down, while his hips were on the way back, and saw part of his cock’s head exposed; he’d pulled out of her that far. She moaned and grinded into him, then watched him slam back up inside of her, then pull out of her all over again. It was searing torture.

She loved it. She kept almost verbally begging him for more cock, deeper, harder. The loud noises she made, just about constantly, and the way she pushed herself into him and his cock into her, were probably plea enough; he never truly stopped, except once to tease her: He pulled all the way out, then rubbed his cock over and around her pussy, then around and over her clit. She almost cried.

Ash held her with one arm around her waist and the small of her back, his other hand busy working her clit, rubbing and clasping around it sometimes, and directly over it other times. He’d already found out that her clit wasn’t very sensitive. Anska took the opportunity with her own hands to work her tits and nipples, squeezing and twisting, while he couldn’t.

She said self-consciously, curiously articulate so close to orgasm, “I’ve never been fucked standing up.” It was really more like a thought that came out somehow. She was enjoying herself and exerted so thoroughly she couldn’t understand herself.

“Do you like being _fucked_ standing up?” Ash said, his voice rough from his body’s rapid breathing and frequent exertion. He asked mostly for fun, but also partly to check he’d heard her correctly. He kept fucking her hard, but also reached down with his off-hand and started rubbing her clit.

“Yes!” she said, an instant before her eyes closed and her language dissolved into wordless grunts and twists and bucks of her hips and moans and yelps. For an instant they both rubbed her clit, but then Ash took over and she just held onto him as best she could, relying on him in this vulnerable climactic moment. If he’d let go of her, she would’ve fallen. That he was strong enough to do all this, and keep doing it, excited her all the more, though now she was all feeling and no thinking.

“Good—” Ash began saying as he fucked her, and he was about to say something else but she cut him off, physically and verbally.

“I’m coming!” Anska said loudly, putting a hand over his mouth and holding it down hard. Somehow that aroused him, the motion’s earnestness and force and randomness, but he knew she couldn’t appreciate the groan that came out of his throat then, or a fraction of a second later when he felt her pussy clenching around him again. She came hard, harder than before, and for much longer.

She kept grunting and moaning and yelping so loudly it hurt his ears. Anska pushed Ash’s hand away from her clit so she could rub it herself, and then she got even louder. She clearly knew he was there, but also seemed to forget about him entirely, eyes clenched shut, grinding against him feebly, spasming, enraptured. Ash felt juices gushing out of her pussy, most of it seemingly coming to rest on his cock or even a little inside of it, but some got past his cock and ran down the couple’s legs and dripped onto the floor. Ash felt a few drops hit one of his feet. “Just fuck me!” she said desperately right after moving his hand off her clit. Her legs wobbled, toes bent. Ash had to hold her up.

As she spoke, Ash kept one arm around her back to hold her up, and with his spare hand grabbed one of her tits to stimulate it, because he had the spare hand and because he really, really wanted to feel her tits. She yelped, and the cacophony of her lengthy orgasm got just a little louder as he took one of her nipples between his fingers and started pinching and rolling it and rubbing his thumb over it, softly but persistently for the second it took her to grab one of his hands and make him do it a lot harder. Then he focused entirely on fucking her, forgetting about his hands and arms—albeit making sure he still supported her with one—though one coincidentally stayed grasping one of her tits the whole time, as she clutched his body with her arms and legs, and his cock with hot wet walls inside of her.

Ash noted Anska working her clit a good deal harder and faster than he had.

Seemingly minutes later the orgasm subsided and Anska calmed. Her body and pussy stopped spasming and squirming and writhing around him and his cock, and she—though Ash’s focus was on her wide, bony hips—held quite still for a long moment, and Ash tried to enjoy feeling so connected to another person, and being so close to her, while her breathing slowed and evened out.

A few seconds later her eyes opened, and then she looked up into his. She was giddy. It seemed she’d hear him if he spoke; Ash said quietly, with a glance to her clit, “Was I doing that wrong?”

She looked down and saw four legs, with a thick cock running between them, connecting them and buried inside of her, and got turned on anew.

She moaned and grinded into him. He meant about her clit. “No,” she said, whispering for some reason, “just too soft. I like it a little rough.”

“Oh,” he said, matching her whisper.

Anska suddenly became aware of her body again. One of Ash’s arms was around her back, low. She loved the feeling. She hugged him and savored all of this for a moment, then backed up to speak with him. She said, “Can I suck your cock again as a reward?”

“As a reward for making you come?” Ash said. “That doesn’t seem right. But I’ll let you if you want to.”

“I really want to,” Anska said. Something about her sincerity made how much it aroused him seem to triple in effect. “I thought saying it was a reward would make it more exciting for you.”

“Oh,” Ash said as Anska took a step back and withdrew his cock from her. They both looked down at it, and felt awfully far apart now that they were no longer joined together in body, and marveled at how covered with her juices and come it was. Anska bit her lip—not in a fake way to entice him, but genuinely to stifle a groan—which gave Ash such a thrill that his cock throbbed visibly. Anska sighed.

Next she pushed him back into place when he tried to move, then knelt before him. He sighed at the sight of it.

He moaned loudly at the sudden, intense sensation of her slowly, sweetly sucking his cock into her mouth, deep wet sucking velvety warmth, with her cheeks caving in rhythm with her sucking. He also moaned at her stroking the shaft of his cock with her tongue; sometimes the tip too. One of her hands rest on one of his thighs, and the other lightly squeezed his balls between her fingers. She squeezed too lightly for it to feel tremendous, but it still felt wonderful, and it was really all that she was doing, and what she was doing, more than how it felt which was exciting, intoxicating. Early on she’d look up into his eyes often, making eye contact with him while sucking and stroking his cock, which he found very exciting. He felt so together with her. After a moment her eyes closed absentmindedly and she didn’t look up again. Something about that further aroused him.

Ash didn’t let Anska keep at it for long. Not as long as she wanted to, anyway. Anska didn’t appreciate that, though it didn’t upset her. He stopped her—or tried to—and pushed back on both her shoulders, said “Stop” aloud. She ignored him. He loved and hated that, at the same time. He said “Stop” again and she still didn’t. Instead, she started bobbing her head back and forth, slowly. He looked down. Seeing her lips fold in and stretch out with her head’s motion about his cock threatened to make him lose control, and act on his basest animal impulses, and dominate her and fuck her until she couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t want this to go like that. Certainly not their first time together. She might let him do it, but he didn’t think she’d like or want that as much as what they—she—were doing right now—an even exchange between equals, taking turns enjoying each other, playing, feeling good.

Anska only took about half his length into her mouth.

Ash put his hands on her head: One, and then he paused because he was pretty sure she would stop at that, but she didn’t, so then the other. She opened her eyes and looked up at him and smiled and giggled, and didn’t stop; she started bobbing her head forth and back. She later told him she’d known damn well he’d wanted her to stop, but enjoyed defying him and stealing pleasure from him. He realized she was playing with him then—relaxing, trusting him. Her eyelids twitched sometimes when his cock hit the roof of her mouth. Which made him laugh. Which made her laugh too. She pulled off his cock to let it out.

A burst of air seemed to go into the spout at the end of his cock, which felt unpleasant. It felt like he’d just taken several steps away from having an orgasm, which he wasn’t even close to before. He grunted with displeasure.

Anska didn’t perceive Ash’s discomfort. Before he thought to put his arms between her mouth and his cock, she lurched forward and took him back into her mouth, though just barely past the head. Her eyes closed as she started sucking on him. “Stop!” he said, still meaning it, but adding a joking exasperation to his tone. Anska’s eyes remained shut, though a smile creased her lips and she giggled in her throat.

When she didn’t stop sucking the remaining portion of his cock in her mouth—only the head—he pushed her face away from himself.

“Coming?” she said again, and winked, teasing.

“No, I just need more,” he said. He couldn’t believe she winked.

So Anska used her off-hand to grab his balls too, and squeezed them, just a little—he couldn’t hold back a moan—then she looked at Ash questioningly. It was intense for a moment, but not what he’d meant by “more.”

Anska moved to resume cock-sucking, and he stopped her again: “No, stop,” Ash said. “I need to fuck you.”

Very excited at the thought, Anska said, “Oh good!” She rose to her feet so quickly her tits bounced. Ash shut his eyes and moaned briefly at the sight of it. Sometimes he didn’t even notice stuff like that, parts of the body shifting in motion. Other times he did and enjoyed it. “Fuck me rougher this time!” she said.

“I will,” Ash said.

Anska said, “Do you have any skooma?”

“On me? Maybe a little,” Ash said, “in my _bag of holding_.”

“Is that what you put your whip and bow in?” Anska said.

“Yes,” Ash said.

They drank a bottle of skooma together—Anska took the bottle and drank from it, then moved the bottle to Ash’s mouth, and he tipped his head back and opened his mouth, and she poured the rest into his mouth—and everything got more intense, more vivid, more better, and seemed to happen even faster. They swallowed together, at the same time. The skooma went down smoothly. It was sugary to the extreme.

Ash was surprised at how colorful the ruined throne room was. Anska was surprised how good even the slightest touch from Ash felt.

Then they started making out and touching each other all over again.

Anska broke the kiss after a few seconds to say, “You gotta come before it wears off. Since you’re such a knight.”

They both laughed, very turned on and hot and breathing fast and heavily, and sweating, and high, but most importantly, still having lots of fun together.

Ash said, “How long?”

Anska said, “I have no idea. Hopefully less than ten minutes.”

Ash said, “How long for the skooma to wear off?”

They giggled.

Anska said, as he touched the insides of her thighs and then pushed a finger into her pussy, “A little less than an hour, maybe?” Then she moaned throatily and pushed him deeper into her.

Ash pretended to think about it. He said, “I can make it.”

“Good,” Anska said, then moaned.

Anska and Ash laughed together, then made out for a while as he fingered her and she simply let him do whatever he wanted, because she trusted whatever it was to be something she’d enjoy.

After a few minutes of very pure joy, and no pressure to keep having sex though Ash fully intended to, Ash’s cock bumped into Anska’s thigh and he remembered how badly he wanted to please and satisfy her. He dully noticed that he’d remained erect the entire time, even without either of them directly stimulating his cock. He knew he should be doing more. But he was enjoying kissing her and fingering her. Ash slipped a second finger inside Anska’s pussy, one she wasn’t expecting. She gasped and broke their current deep kiss and he felt her breath all over his face, but then she hastily and aggressively went right back to making out with him.

The next thing they knew Ash’s cock was inside of Anska’s pussy again, and her legs were propped up on his neck and shoulders, and she was on her back and he was on top. They were on the table her scroll had been on, but neither of them cared where they were in that moment.

Fucking her anew, Ash was still a complete gentleman, still her knight, but he was no longer so gentle—no longer _too_ gentle. As far as Anska was concerned, he was fucking her just right.

Anska later recalled hearing the continuous and frequent wet and wonderful soft impacts, the sound of two bodies making love, and really enjoying the sounds, and hearing the noise of skin colliding and bumping together hard repeatedly, echoing throughout the big, high-ceilinged room as they fucked. Then she forgot about it, focusing on enjoying the feeling, which seemed to be occurring throughout her body, and enjoying Ash’s company. “Fuck me, my knight!” she called out, and then, “My knight, _fuck_ me!” and then her head rolled back and she was enjoying the ride, pure feeling, all pleasure.

She looked back up, to peer into his eyes. He’d positioned himself carefully and kissed her. Then broke the kiss because it was making his long messy strokes into her shallow. She watched his eyes track her tits, as both globes of flesh and milk jerked back and forth from him slamming into her, fucking her, before using her hands to pinch one of her nipples, and twist and roll it. She brought her other hand down to her pussy to rub her clit, all the while loving how Ash fucked her. She saw him notice she was touching herself; it thrilled him.

He didn’t seem to fixate on any one part of her. She wondered what kind of preferences he had. He was good with every part of her body, though, her tits and her pussy and even her clit—and, most important of all, her mind.

Anska variously scratched his back, raking her nails into him and dragging, sometimes digging in at a particular spot, like one of his thickly-muscled arms. She did what she could think of to encourage him—to make sure he kept giving her more of what she wanted. Which he did. She also loved scratching a man’s back, leaving marks that could only be hers. She wanted to mark Ash, to mar his perfect skin. Ash seemed to enjoy it, though not as much as men normally did. Later, after they were both exhausted, she looked over his back; she’d done a lot more damage than she thought, scratches in many places and bruises in a few. His wounds seemed to heal awfully quickly, though; other men she’d been with would’ve bled from what her nails, but Ash didn’t. She suspected magickal involvement.

They kept fucking for a long time, in various and exciting positions. Ash distinctly remembered her saying “This is fun!” at one moment. They laughed. She came again.

As he admitted later, Ash got close to orgasm several times, but managed to pull back despite how turned-on he was, like by changing positions, or pulling out entirely and bringing his mouth to Anska’s pussy, or by focusing purely on pleasing her.

In one exciting position, Anska got down on all fours and Ash on his knees, and he shoved his cock into her, entering her pussy from behind, over and over again, hard as she liked it. He had to hold her still; at first he thought it would work if he held her by her ass, which they both would’ve loved, but it didn’t work; she would’ve had to brace herself on something, and she had nothing to brace against. So he tried holding her firmly high on her hips, which worked for a few increments of her telling him to fuck her harder. Eventually he put both of his hands on her shoulders because he had to and it was the only thing that worked anymore. Less exciting to hold, but he was fucking her so hard he needed to hold her by them, and she absolutely loved the feeling, of being fucked so hard she had to be held down. He could tell. When he noticed that, he didn’t mind that he couldn’t hold her down well enough by her ass or hips. Often in this position Ash left her to her own devices so he could pull her hair or slap her ass, both of which he did regularly, and without her even needing to tell him to. They did that on the floor.

One time right before she came Anska said again, very loudly, “Fuck me, my knight! Fuck me!”

In another position, Ash lay on the table and Anska got on top of him and fucked him precisely as she pleased, the rhythm and pace and depth and force entirely up to her, and he rubbed her clit, and sometimes would thrust his hips up off the table to meet her riding him. Sometimes she wanted that, wanted them to force their bodies together. Sometimes she wanted him to stay perfectly still. She pretended she was in a room full of naked men lying on their backs with their cocks hard, and that she’d just happened to choose Ash on a whim. She said, “I choose you!” with a bubbly playfulness. She meant it, though. He said in the same way, “I am the luckiest man in Skyrim.” He also meant it.

In an exciting position, Anska, on top of Ash but facing him, simply rotated around on his cock and put her ass to his face, her back to him, then she kept riding him and took her pleasure. Several times. He was such a good sport. And impossibly enduring. He’d take breaks occasionally to eat her pussy, he wasn’t invulnerable, but he’d gone this whole time without reaching orgasm. Not even a quick one—no pulling out of her hurriedly, spraying his load on her pussy and her belly and slipping back in, no shooting his cum down her throat during a blowjob—she sucked his cock several more times throughout the night, though he only let her get away with that alone once, when she demanded it. The other times he’d lie down and have her sit on his face so he could suck her clit and finger her pussy, or stimulate her in whatever other way they could think of. One time he sat on the edge of the table and she leaned forward to suck his cock and he was able to reach around her to her pussy. It didn’t feel like quite enough access, or a decent angle, to him, but it was better than doing nothing to her. She might’ve been disappointed if he’d come really quickly early on, especially if he’d come once and just been done with her like some men she’d been with, but after her second or third orgasm he could’ve come anytime and she wouldn’t have cared. Well, she would’ve loved it, but she wouldn’t have thought less of him for it. Even if she’d been about to come, and he hit his orgasm first and pulled out, like a knight would so as not to get her with child, and maybe she could stroke him while he shot ropes of cum she knew he was keeping from her on her belly and her tits. Then she could surprise him by licking it up. She hadn’t had the opportunity to tell or show him she sometimes liked the taste of men’s cum. Or at least, she did when she was this aroused, and this thoroughly fucked and pleased and satisfied and satiated. After what felt like several hours of fucking she assumed he just could not ejaculate, or maybe was anatomically unable to orgasm.

Anska was very fond of doggy style. Ash didn’t have a preference, at the moment, and really he just liked being with Anska. He liked whatever she did. If she was happy, he was happy. He wasn’t concerned about positions. He would’ve tried anything if she’d wanted to, even if he’d never done it before, though he was pretty sure he’d done everything. He was several human lifetimes old, and he’d looked like he was in his twenties the whole time, and he still had the sexual appetite of a young man. They did a lot of fucking in doggy-style that night. Sometimes he’d reach around to rub her clit. Other times he held her by her hips or waist, and they’d meet each other, her thrusting back and him thrusting forth. Sometimes he’d stay still and tell her to fuck him, throw her ass at him, or she’d tell him to stay still and grind back into him, or thrust back and forth. Somehow he found that thing in particular very exciting. Watching her ass jiggle in tremors from impact, and her hips and waist and back twist and writhe, and hearing and feeling her come.

He’d been worrying about when and how he’d have his own orgasm far too much by then. He’d become very picky somehow, and no position seemed like the right one for him to finally let himself unloose. He made a big deal of it. Anska didn’t. She barely cared. It was an incredible night. Anska felt like she’d achieved apotheosis as she fell asleep with him.

They took turns in the dominant position, when they were in such positions. They both usually preferred to be actively involved and engaged, but sometimes they’d break up their rhythms or monotony and one of them would do just about whatever the other asked for. Often this was Ash staying perfectly still for Anska, to either let her ride him or suggest a pace or path, like shifting into some other position. They got into seemingly every possible variation of doggy style. Anska found she liked the position where she was on top with her back facing Ash’s front, basically lying on top of him. She’d never tried that position before. Ash called it reverse cowgirl. She felt so sexy like that, either lying on top of him or sort of sitting upright, perpendicular to his body. Sometimes he held her by her ass, and sometimes he spanked her. Sometimes he couldn’t reach her head to pull her hair, but eventually he felt like he wasn’t doing enough and asked if she wanted him to pull her hair—she told him she’d love that—and so she leaned back, adjusting herself so she was still riding him but so their bodies were roughly parallel, with her still on top and her back still facing him. From there, Ash could pull her hair as she fucked him.

Somehow Ash managed to hold out—or as Anska looked at it, withhold his orgasm from her. She liked to think of it as something she could take from him.

Anska came seemingly dozens more times, both of them losing count of how many precisely. She’d tried to hold out early on, but eventually came to trust him, that he wouldn’t leave her unsatisfied, that he wouldn’t come and be done all at once. Though technically she couldn’t know as he hadn’t come yet. But he was such an incredibly giving, willing and able lover, she could tell he just wasn’t like that. She thoroughly enjoyed herself. She loved how she got her cum all over him and his cock, inside of her. She loved that he loved that she got her cum all over him. She enjoyed thinking that they’d fucked so much tonight his cock would always smell and taste faintly of her.

Hours went by. Anska would remember most of this night for the rest of her life, but in the moment, she’d forgotten about the skooma they did together. Something about having a countless amount of orgasms must’ve toyed with her memory. But eventually, Ash said, “Anska, I’m getting close.” To her, he sounded close. He felt close. Muscles tightening. He seemed to be squeezing one of her tits a little harder than made sense. They were both on their sides, on the table.

“ _Fuck_ yes!” Anska said, thrilled. “Pull out of me, my knight.” She stopped moving, waiting for him to get up, looking back at him over her shoulder.

“I will,” Ash said, “before.” He kissed her. He kept fucking her. He noticed right then that the skooma he’d taken had worn off a long time ago.

Anska pulled herself bodily away from him and felt his cock slip out of her. She instantly missed it and how it filled her and stretched her and still hurt—in a wonderfully pleasurable way. “No,” she said, “ _Pull out._ Right now. I want to finish you with my mouth.”

“Oh, _pull out_ ,” Ash said, and she laughed, and he chuckled but couldn’t laugh—too close.

She told him to stand and he stood, and she knelt before him. That thrilled him but seemed sort of wrong. But then she started working him over and he forgot. As he’d learned earlier, she could give a great blowjob. Sometimes she held back. Sometimes she didn’t. This time she didn’t.

Anska lied; She used her mouth and her tongue and her hands _and_ her tits to make him come. Her tits weren’t large, but they were plenty. She seemed to suck the orgasm right out of him, using both tits on him at the same time, as well as her mouth and hands and tongue. He’d thrust up between her tits slowly, and she’d line up so he went from her tits and pushed past her lips and went into her mouth, where she’d lick and suck feverishly. He kept up a slow pace the whole time, really savoring the moment and what she was doing to him. She hadn’t expected that. She was used to men building up to a sort of fever pitch, losing control in ecstasy, going harder and faster to a fast climax and then subsiding quickly.

“Anska,” he groaned. “I’m going to come.”

She let her tits go and pulled the head of his cock out of her mouth. His cock was ridiculously wet with her cum and spit. She stroked him off feeling no friction, and then he finally came, and his eyes clenched shut from what she could only imagine was an extremely intense surge of pleasure. She stroked him off with both hands and aimed him, eventually with a steady hand, controlling where his cum went, though his hand quickly joined both of hers on his cock. He held and squeezed at the base, and she ran her hands over the rest of it, at first twisting in different directions and squeezing—but then his cum went everywhere. So she used her off-hand to aim his cock, and her other, more dexterous hand to keep stroking it. He moaned loudly throughout. He sounded entirely satisfied. His other hand went to his balls and squeezed harder than she thought he liked. She got a thrill from him finally coming, and adored the amazing, filthy sounds that came from him, as well as the hot reward he gave her, and the taste of him lingering in her mouth.

Ash shot cum all over her tits, neck and face. A few looping spurts flew into her mouth. She held it on her tongue, tasting it, savoring it, keeping her mouth wide open for more. Her entire mouth felt full. She’d only barely seen the cum traveling from his cock to her mouth, but at least one spurt had been an impressively large rope of the stuff. Anska remembered she controlled his cock, closed her mouth and wallowed in his salty sweet taste and aftertaste, and directed one more shot at her face (it landed high on her forehead), then swallowed hard and quickly aimed his spasming cock down at her neck and tits, which quickly also felt hot all over. At least one shot missed her entirely; she kept both her eyes open, intent on watching him come because she loved beholding the sight of it, but then she sensed one of his super-fast early spurts coming straight at one of her eyes and closed it and then that whole side of her face seemed to get covered with cum—hot but cooling quickly, like a liquid at first but then slow and viscous and sticky—and next thing she saw a relatively thin but long gout of bright white spunk go flying right over her head.

His orgasm seemed to go on for several minutes.

Anska felt like she would drown in his cum and loved it. He was spoiling her now as he had been the whole night. She was overwhelmed.

“That’s a _lot_ of cum,” she said, absent-mindedly when it seemed the last of it was leaking out of him. She thought it would sound exciting and . . . vixen-ish? . . . but when it came out it sounded milder than she meant. He didn’t seem to mind.

He felt like he was going to pass out. He was seeing spots.

Anyway the volume of cum he issued made sense, really. They’d been at it for, realistically, at least a few hours. His balls must’ve been producing semen enthusiastically the whole time. She was sure he’d been close a few times, especially during her many orgasms. She was very pleased with this night, and this man. Even if he was an elf. Anska squeezed his cock, coaxing his seed out, emptying his balls, making sure. She kept at it for a time. When it leaked out, she licked it off or out of the spout of his cock. She loved the low moans from him that earned her. When it seemed like he’d finally run dry she swished the cum she had in her mouth, and ran her tongue through the small amount she’d squeezed out, and swallowed again.

“I’m sorry,” Ash said. He started stroking his cock again. She hadn’t noticed him releasing himself. Anska noticed, pushed his hands away—he happily let go—and stroked his cock for him. It had somehow stopped spurting semen, finally. It wasn’t quite done spasming and clutching or twitching, she felt and saw. His cock stayed hard for . . . well, until after they fell asleep, which was quite a while, which she liked. He was that into her even after his orgasm.

“You didn’t get it in my eyes, you’re fine,” Anska said. Only two or was it three shots had hit her face, and the big ones that went in that direction landed in her mouth. The lion’s share went on her tits. She’d felt some trail down to her belly and drip on one of her thighs. “And no! Don’t apologize, I loved it. I’ve never let a man do that before.”

Ash took over stroking his cock. Anska scooped some cum off her lips and into her mouth, tasted his thick sweet saltiness again briefly, then swallowed it.

“Come on you?” Ash said.

“On my face,” she said, standing. She was still beautiful, even with cum on her.

“Oh,” he said. “I’m embarrassed. I’m sorry I came _everywhere_ on you like that.”

“I wanted it. It’s fine! I liked earning all of it,” Anska said. She looked into his eyes, both of hers clear and open again, and absent-mindedly rubbed some of his cum on her tits and chest into her skin. “You must’ve had a whole fleet of semen in your nuts. This—” She gestured at her entire bust area. “—was like you showing me how good I was. It’s a compliment, that you gave it to me. I’ve wanted to do that to a man for so long. I thought you’d want to come in me, or pull out and shoot it out into . . . nowhere. The floor, I suppose.”

It sounded like she meant about half of what she said. Ash wasn’t sure what to make of any of it. She was clearly happy; giddy, pleased, sated. That was what mattered.

“Don’t be ashamed,” Anska said. “Just clean me off, my knight.”

Ash smiled, said a very dignified “My lady” with a nod, picked up his enchanted bag and reached in, and came out with another shirt, this one blue but similar to the green one he’d worn when they met, which they’d tossed onto the floor. She’d already swallowed or rubbed into her skin a lot of his load. Ash cleaned every remaining drop of his cum off of her body scrupulously. Including some that had run down to her belly and thighs. He couldn’t explain how it got there. There was also one thin errant strand high on her forehead; neither of them recalled it issuing there.

“Do you wanna do your tits?” he said, offering the shirt.

“Ash, we just _proper_ fucked for hours. You can touch my tits. You can touch anything,” she said.

He laughed, and she laughed, and he wiped her tits clean with his shirt. When he was done, he must’ve made a face at it, because she said, “It still feels like there’s cum on me.”

“Maybe we should take a bath together,” Ash said.

“I’d love that,” Anska said, meaning it, though there wasn’t a bath anywhere near, or she would’ve made him bathe with her then.

“I’ve never come that much before,” he said.

“Aye, I feel like that shouldn’t have been possible,” she said.

**V. Zind**

Anska and Ash lie together, talking, on the room’s table, feeling their hot bodies go back to normal and their sweat turn cold, for at least ten minutes before their breathing returned to normal. They were close, up against one another.

Anska said, “Am I the first sturdy Nord woman you’ve been with?” She tapped her arms, which were fit as well as sturdy.

Ash said, “Are you sure you want to know?”

She cocked an eyebrow, intrigued—though it agitated her, that he was still guarded at all with her. “I am,” she said.

“No,” he said. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing or you’ll spoil it!” she said. “You’re my first elf.”

“Excellent,” Ash said. “I’m not a normal elf.”

Anska smiled and said, “I know.” She took one of his hands and kissed it.

While they were still breathing hard, Anska asked Ash to get her scroll and bring it over.

Ash, breathing hard, didn’t want to get up, or move away from her, and simply said it was encrypted.

“How did you know?” Anska said before she remembered. “Oh! I read it before all . . . the fucking. Gods, that was so long ago! I’m stupid.”

“You clearly don’t need me to tell you this, but you’re not stupid,” Ash said.

“I know, but that seems like something a dumb person would do,” Anska said. There was a pause. She added, “Thank you for not making any blonde jokes. Or dumb Nord jokes.”

“I wouldn’t ever dream of it,” he said. “You’re welcome.” He took one of her hands and kissed it. Then he couldn’t help himself, leaned up and kissed both her breasts. He detected a healthy dose of salt on them both. His salt. He didn’t enjoy or particularly mind it.

What felt like moments later Anska said, “I’m impressed you lasted that long.” She looked a touch insecure as she said it. “Both times.”

“No, you were fabulous,” Ash said. “Not to mention _very_ attractive.”

“Thank you, my knight,” she said.

“You’re welcome, my lady,” he said.

“And, good,” she said. “How did you do it?”

“Not come for that long?” Ash said.

“Yes, my knight.”

He smiled. She smiled. He said, “My lady, it’s simply . . .  Of all the problems I have, that is not one.”

“I don’t know what you mean by that,” she said.

“Nor am I,” he said.

After a short time of them simply holding each other and cuddling Ash said, “Did I do okay? I feel like—”

“Don’t doubt yourself! You were excellent,” she said. “One of my best ever. _I_ doubted myself occasionally, and I feel foolish for it now.”

“Don’t. You had nothing to doubt,” he said. “Truly? One of your best ever?”

“Do you have anything to doubt?” she said. “And, yes.”

“I feel like I didn’t do it hard enough,” he said. “Like when you said—”

“Just look at my pussy!” she said. She couldn’t really move; her legs disobeyed her and she was quite sore, so he had to sit up to look. He felt himself throb, just looking at her naked form, even now. When he heard “my pussy” in her Nordic accent he felt his heart flip, and his cock throb again. “It’s all blown out!” she said when she was sure he could see. He also felt a little embarrassed. “You did it plenty well hard enough! I can barely walk! Actually I can’t walk. You did it right. And plenty hard. As I wanted.”

They lapsed into silence. They held each other.

“Oh!” Anska said a short time later. “I forgot!”

“Forgot what?” Ash said.

“I have a gift for you,” she said.

“I think we just gave each other a gift,” he said. “Several.”

She laughed and said, “No, it’s for helping me get the scroll. I petitioned the Champions—Companions—of Whiterun to help me, so it’s what I would’ve given them. A spell tome.”

“We just had this bonding experience with _sex_ at the end,” he said. “That’s much more a gift than I ever would’ve hoped for.”

“Not just sex,” she said. “A lot of sex. Really _good_ sex. So let me . . .  Call it a quest reward.”

“I’ll accept it only if we agree the sex wasn’t a form of reward,” he said.

“Agreed,” she said. “That sex was . . .  It was something . . . else. Extra.”

“Yes,” he said.

“So, could you . . . ” she said.

“What?” he said.

“Could you carry me back to the front of the ruins?” Anska said. “I really can’t walk.”

Ash smiled and said, “Huzzah! We just had sex!”

“Huzzah!” Anska said enthusiastically. “ _All_ the sex!” They slapped their hands together, celebrating.

A good while later, he carried her to the entrance of High Gate ruins, and she gave him a spell tome, which identified itself as _Conjure Flaming Familiar_.

They parted ways after that, but saw each other several more times in the next few days as Ash made several trips to loot the entire place, save for Anska’s things, like trail rations and a bedroll. Ash conjured a horse to help him haul things, like several draugr deathlords’ ebony shields and weapons, away faster. Ash tried to get Anska to take half the money he got for selling the loot, but she refused it repeatedly. They had sex several more times, each successful and different from the first, extended time. Then Ash left High Gate’s ruins for the last time, and they never saw each other again.


End file.
